Moments
by Jenna Black
Summary: I was already awake when the coin burned hot against my skin. There was no doubt who was calling, as this replacement coin only had one match, his... Hermione/George


Moments

By Jenna Black

"He called for me again tonight" I whisper to Crookshanks, curled up in my lap. Ron was asleep upstairs, the snores were filtering down through the floorboards; the silence otherwise was proof the kids were too. It was 2:30 in the morning, and another busy day would come with the sun, but sleep was something that wouldn't come to me at the best of times anymore. Forget about on the nights when he calls. I was already awake when the coin burned hot against my skin. There was no doubt who was calling, as this replacement coin only had one match, his. We'd replaced the originals years ago. No one else knew that the coin I wore around my neck everyday was not the one from the DA.

He was drunk, again. Like always. The agreement we had held at any other time. I once again regret not binding him to a wizard's oath, but his reticence, and my desperation to be done with the situation had erased that option. Lost in memories of the past, the coin again burning hot against my skin brings me back to the present. I turn it over in my hands and read roman numerals II and IV, followed by 143, and finished with another V. Big News, I need to talk with you, I miss you, and 5 minutes. After another moments hesitation I respond, in like code, with X, for yes.

Rising from the chair I send a silencing spell up the stairs, and activate the wards on the bedroom doors; if anyone wakes up and leaves their room I will know. The silence of the night presses in on me, reminding me of nights years ago – the guilt of what we were doing, and the knowledge that no one could ever know. Without effort it all comes back. The feel of his skin on mine, the whispers and moans, the scratch of rough ground against my skin.

The first time had been an indiscretion… both drunk on holiday wine, her younger self upset over the latest fight with Ron, his stumbling through another family function without his pair. They'd both snuck away from the festivities, and had found each other in the garden. Then a week later, another holiday party, and a dark hallway that brought them both to an empty study. Those first moments, heated and heavy, had given way to others, sprinkled throughout the months. He had needed her to forget, and she had needed him to remember.

Then it had happened, like she knew it inevitably would. Ron had come back into her life, full of proclamations and acts of love. When faced with the choice of hiding in closets, or being proudly claimed; she had made her choice, and he had respected it. That is, when he was sober. Which he unusually was, the drinking fading away as he dealt with his pain.

Except for certain days. The first of April was next week, and to her it was a near certainty that sometime this week, she would feel the coin burn. She didn't know if it was dread, or anticipation, of that very special burn that kept her up at night. The fire glowed green, and a moment later he was standing in front of her.

"HI" he whispered, running his hand over his hair. He was growing it longer; it teased his shoulders now, shining in the glow of the fire.

"George." I whisper. I play with the coin in my hand again, waiting to see just what he would need tonight. Sometimes all they did was sit and snuggle, the warmth of a companion who 'got it' enough. Other times his lips would crash on hers a leave her bruised. Magic was a wonderful thing after those meetings.

"We need to talk." He stated, glancing upstairs to silently as if I had put our protections up.

"Okay." I sit down on the couch, and feel it dip as he settles besides me. I swallow a couple times, and struggle to keep my voice steady "What is it?"

"Angelina's pregnant." He murmurs. His eyes shine brightly as he looks at me. The pain I expected from that statement doesn't come, just a grim finality. I feel to my core that this will be our last meeting.

"Congratulations." I say, knowing I should be happy for them. Maybe that feeling will come with time. "When?" I ask, barely getting the word out.

"November." He replies, pulling out a flask from his robes and taking a swig. His eyebrows rise when I take it from him and help myself to a drink. His business is doing well, and this firewhiskey is exceptionally smooth going down. Of course, even the normal stuff doesn't bother me anymore.

We'd been through this before, Rose and Hugo were proof enough of that… but this marked a change in everything just the same. Our coupling was built on his pain and my hurt. With both our families growing, that had ceased being reason enough years ago... to be replace with what? Habit? Love? I shake my head to clear the thought of that.

George loved… loves Angelina.

I loved… love Ron.

We pass the flask back and forth a couple times, but the more it influences me the more I just want to cry, something I cannot let myself do. So I push it away the next time it's offered, and we sit in silence watching the fire fade away to embers. The warmth falls away, and cold tendrils snake up my legs.

"I can't do this anymore." He told her, shaking his head and dropping it in his hand.

"I know." I whisper. "It's time." I laugh a little. "Hell, it was time years ago, if we're being honest. I just didn't want to give you… this… up." I sniffle a little, and breath out again. "I was there when you needed me, and at some point it became me needing you."

He smirked at that, a little light in the darkness "Aye, but how could you not?" He teased, trying vainly to lighten the mood. "I still don't… can't… won't regret it. Anything." He states, his voice low and earnest.

I think about the kids asleep upstairs, and the husband who loves me so well. All the pain this, and the cost of having continued it all these years, could cause. "I know I should. But so help me I can't… won't… either." I whisper, grabbing his hand and holding it in mine. The clock chiming in the kitchen startles us. Time is passing on.

He nods and stands, pulling me up with him, and crushes me into a tight hug. My body recognizes his so well, relaxing as his scent washes over me. I close my eyes and breathe, for just a moment. As he pulls away the cold returns and feels so much bitterer than before. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it." He says, while playing with the coin he's pulled from his pocket.

"You'll make a great father." I smile at him. I remind myself that a new baby is a happy thing, no matter the circumstance. He reaches out his hand, but pulls it back a half second later. This will be new territory for the both of us now. It will take time before touching in public but not in private, becomes natural. The sky out the window is just starting to lighten; daylight comes early this far north, and at only 13 months Hugo will rise with it. "You should go." I swallow, and blink back the tears in my eyes.

He nods, and moves towards the burnt out fire. One muttered word, and it's roaring again. A pinch of powder, and the room is bathed in green. The fire quickly burns itself out after he goes through, and I fall to the ground, sobbing through waves of pain. Doing what is right is not always easy. I fall back, and look up at the ceiling, my tears trail off to be caught in my hair. My skin burns and I examine the coin again, surprised to feel it glow hot against me so soon. Emptiness washes over me as I take in the now bare coin.

Our secret is over. But my secret still stands. I wasn't lying when I said he would make a great father.

He already was.


End file.
